Blood of the Assassin

CHAPTER 36





Gravel crunched under the oversized tires as Briones guided the Dodge down the dirt road, the cinderblock buildings on either side covered with graffiti and filth and the tarpaper shacks fashioned from discarded lumber and filched materials lending an aura of disrepair to the area. These were the hovels of the working poor, with no social net to catch them when they stumbled – their everyday existence as harsh as any third world population’s, with non-existent sanitation and pest infestation battling disease and crime as the primary scourges of the grim shanty town. Running water had only made it to the unfortunate residents within the last decade, with most electricity bootlegged from the few overhead power lines running to the industrial buildings. Sewage was a continual problem, as the rough septic tanks the more industrious neighbors had installed cracked from the region’s constant earthquakes and the wastewater seeped into the ground. Still, it was an improvement over the open trench latrines that soured the air; and little by little, progress was being made.

Cruz pointed to the dark market and Briones pulled the car to the side of the road, near two rusting mid-eighties Chrysler sedans that had seen their best years fade behind them in clouds of oily, partially combusted smoke. Both men got out once the engine died, and Briones’ nose wrinkled involuntarily at the fetid stink of raw human waste.

When El Rey materialized soundlessly behind them, both men jumped, their nerves already on edge.

“What the...don’t do that,” Cruz blurted, hand on his Glock.

“Sorry. Occupational hazard. Where are the weapons?” El Rey asked, not bothering to acknowledge Briones, who silently walked to the trunk and popped the lid. Inside, an arsenal sat ready. El Rey appraised the trove and then reached in and grabbed a silenced Beretta, then one of the rifles and a knife. Last, he fished out a set of night vision goggles, then pulled them over his head and switched them on.

“Hey. That only leaves us with one set of NV gear,” Briones complained, but El Rey cut him off.

“You have a weapon with a night-vision scope. Use that.”

“But–”

Cruz intervened, uninterested in yet another unwinnable squabble between the two. “I think Carlos here would be better served with them than without,” he said, then turned to the assassin. “So what’s the plan?”

El Rey knelt by the car and hastily drew a rectangle in the dirt, then drew another inside. “It’s a walled lot, with a single building, probably no more than three hundred square meters. There are four guards outside and, from what I can tell, two inside. The four outside are carrying shotguns or AKs, and the interior guards are probably similarly equipped. There’s no security gear, so that will make this easier. The grab was apparently a last-minute decision, so they’re keeping her in one of their low-traffic places. El Jaguar was clear on the number of men and the lack of security equipment, though.”

“Wait. You found El Jaguar?” Briones blurted.

El Rey grunted assent.

“Well, where is he?”

“Enjoying his eternal reward,” El Rey said dryly.

Cruz and Briones exchanged a look.

“Here’s what we’re going to do. I’ll go in here, on the back side. Capitan Cruz, you take the high ground there, in that abandoned two-story building across the way from the warehouse. Use the night vision-scoped rifle to pick off anyone I don’t get, but only fire if I’m hit. I’d rather not wake the whole neighborhood if we don’t need to. And you, Lieutenant, when the captain gives you the signal, come through the front gate; but again, don’t shoot unless you see me in trouble. We should be able to do this silently, with any luck at all.”

“What, you mean you plan to try to take out all six yourself, without alerting anyone?” Briones scoffed.

“It’s not like I haven’t done it before. This is your best play. Just be a nice boy and do as you’re told. Don’t shoot, and stay out of my way. Unless you want the captain’s wife to pay for your blunders with her life,” El Rey finished.

“Lieutenant, I think we have to do this his way,” Cruz warned, seeing Briones bristle. He eyed the assassin. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“Give me five minutes to get into position, and then I’m going in. Remember. Do. Not. Shoot. If either of you gets trigger-happy, this blows up and your wife dies.” El Rey paused and glared at Briones. “I presume you both have cell phones. Capitan, call the lieutenant when I go in so he knows it’s begun. You, turn your phone to vibrate so you don’t alert the guards.”

He spun, and was just about to trot into the darkness when Cruz grabbed his arm.

“Good luck.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t need it.”

And then he was gone.

Briones turned to Cruz, shaking his head. “I don’t like this. He’s up to something. He’s excluded both of us...it feels wrong,” he protested.

“He did, but I think it’s because if he told us to wait in the car, we wouldn’t have. So he gave us tasks to keep us occupied.”

“I really think we need to reconsider–”

“Lieutenant. So far, he’s located the key Los Zetas player in Mexico City and extracted the whereabouts of my wife in about as much time as it would have taken us to submit a report requesting permission to begin surveillance on him. I think we play this his way.”

“That’s another thing. Aren’t you concerned about how he handled El Jaguar? I mean, he obviously killed him, and probably tortured him.”

“I think that if you’re going to kidnap family members, it changes the rules. Besides, is the world such a bad place without El Jaguar polluting it? How many lives will be saved because he’s dead? No, I have mixed feelings about this. I wish I could say I was shocked, but I’m actually just glad he’s on our side.”

“When did we become vigilantes?” Briones asked.

Cruz understood his moral outrage, but knew him well enough to understand that it was more for show than anything. Years of working on the anti-cartel task force hardened you, he knew from personal experience.

“We’re not vigilantes. We’re mounting a mission using assets from another government agency. One that operates with considerably different latitude than we do. Fortunately, for Dinah’s sake. Let’s not get all self-righteous on this. Remember our objective. And remember what happened to my wife and daughter. If I’d had someone like him back then, maybe they’d still be alive.”

Briones had no response.

“I’ll take full responsibility for this operation, Lieutenant. All I ask is that you put your feelings aside and pull on the same oar with me.”

Briones appeared to think about it for a few moments, and then nodded. “Okay, sir. I’m in. Let’s get into position. By my watch, we’ve got about three and a half minutes before all hell breaks loose.”

Cruz watched as Briones flipped on his night vision goggles and then jogged down the dirt road towards the compound. He was still uneasy about his lieutenant, and uttered a silent prayer that he wouldn’t let his obvious dislike for the assassin spill over and make him do something stupid. Cruz hefted the rifle and then sprinted for the abandoned structure, a flutter of anxiety building in his stomach as his boots clomped against the loose dirt of the sad road to nowhere.